


Don't glance under the bed, my love

by runningwithstars



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Anya, BAMF Lexa, Corrupt world, Demon, Demon Queen Lexa, Demon World vs. Human World sort of, Demons, F/F, Fantasy, Fluff, Gay, Lesbians, Magic, Sassy Demon Anya, Shape Shifters, Shape shifter raven reyes, Some Heavy Shit, Vampires, Werewolves, Will add tags as I go, Witch - Freeform, Witch Clarke, a bit of everything, bullet proof lesbians, cw: child abuse, gays in a fantasy setting war, hateful humans so nothing new, idk - Freeform, mentions of child abuse, so much lesbians, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:58:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8721601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningwithstars/pseuds/runningwithstars
Summary: Clarke's lived almost her whole life by the rules her father left her. Or rule, should she say. Never. Summon. A demon. So when her shape shifting friend Raven goes ahead and does it for her in her house without her permission she's pissed. One of the most powerful demons in existence has now taken up residence on her couch and leaves burn marks on her carpet. Oh, ad she seems to be in constant contact with a green eyed mystery.... But with the humans on the move and thirsty for magic blood, Clarke needs all the allies she can get. Even if it means giving everything she has to the Queen of the Collation, mighty ruler and Leader of the Trikru, the one who rules the demon world.The Heda.





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke sighed as she pushed open the door to her apartment. It had been a long day at Griffin’s Magic Emporium and she was tired.

 

All she wanted to do was sleep. After all, Octavia had been called away for a family thing (her brother accidentally pissed off a Goddess when he was trying to contact her) and she’d had to close up all on her own. There was nothing right not that could mess up the peace her bed and the bag of Thai food hanging of her right arm would bring her.

 

That is, until she smelt smoke and felt the undeniable presence of a _Trikru demon._

 

Clarke bit her fist to keep from screaming. She’d seen Raven looking at her carefully preserved tomes on summoning; and warned her multiple times not to touch it. After all, not all demons were friendly.

 

At least she’d had the sense to summon a Trikru demon. They were most often neutral.

 

 _Chaotic neutral,_ she thought bitterly.

 

Slamming the door shut and hearing Raven’s quiet “Oh, Shit,” Was enough to relight her rage.

 

The soft sound of a whispery chuckle set her nerves on edge. No.

 

Clarke had gone 67 years without messing around with summoning. One incident with the Azgeda was enough to put her off.

 

Before her father had died he had warned her. No. Summoning.

 

_“Most demons don’t want to be summoned into the human world. If you do, it’s like opening a door fort hem to personally travel in between whenever they please. Closing the door is very rude. Most demons aren’t inherently evil, but they are very well known for causing trouble. You’d do especially well to avoid ay collation demons, Clarke. They are incredibly intelligent and powerful, ranging from good to neutral to evil.”_

 

But Raven.

 

Oh, she was going to kill that self-entitled, over glorified shape shifter. Storming into the living room, Clarke took in the scene before her with barely contained wrath.

 

Smoke billowing around the ceiling, Raven, wide eyed and frozen with blood dripping from a cut onto her hand into Clarke’s _white carpet._

 

And then, of course, in the centre of the room was the demon. A ring of salt surrounded them and the particular summoning symbol had been burnt into Clarke’s _soft white motherfucking carpet._

 

She wore dark clothes with what looked to be furry boots. Her coat reached mid thigh and had metal coverings on the shoulders and elbows. Her dirty blonde hair was dark at the roots and her cheekbones were sharp enough to kill a man. Small horns poked out of her hair at the top of her head, and Clarke just knew the girl’s incisors were sharp as knives, hidden by her lips. Angular eyes took in the scene before her with mirth.

 

“Hi, Clarke. I can explain.” Raven got out from the other side of the room.

“Oh?” Was all Clarke said.

 

Dumbly, Raven froze before weakly saying, “You weren’t supposed to be home. I thought you were going out.”

 

Clarke ignored that last comment. She had been going out. Not anymore.

 

“Look, her name is Anyah, I can send her back-,” Both girls ignored the indignant snort from the Trikru demon as Clarke broke in.

 

“Send her back? One, Raven Reyes, it is ten times harder to get rid of a demon then it is to summon one. She basically now has free access to our home, to this world, to come and go as she pleases.” Raven paled beneath her tan.

But Clarke wasn’t done.

 

“Second, that is so rude! Not only have you invited her here you are now acting like a spoiled brat who’s pet won’t do tricks. You’re lucky your sloppy summoning didn’t piss her off enough to burn our house down!” Clarke was shouting.

 

“And third. Did you say her name was _Onya_?” Meekly Raven nodded.

 

Clarke looked at the demon with a sigh. Of course Raven had summoned her.

 

Clarke knew exactly who she was. She was after all, the highest-ranking _identified_ demon in her summoning book.

 

She was the _Heda’s_ strongest general. Her advisor. Her second in command. Clarke had loved going through all the books on her, marvelling over the demon’s strength and beauty. The only thing that had held her attention more was _Heda_ who simply had a page that said:

 

**_Heda: Commander of the Trikru and the Collation._ **

 

And Anya – spelt with an A but pronounced with an O – had trained her.

 

Clarke eyed the weak, meagre salt circle.

 

_No way is that keeping her there._

 

Maybe if she were a lesser level demon instead of one of the most powerful the salt would be effective. Clarke looked at it disdainfully. Raven hadn’t even charged the salt.  

 

The demon had a smile like the cat that got the canary. She was simply amusing herself. It seemed everyone in the room knew she could do whatever she pleased now that she had been summoned. Everyone but Raven.

 

Rave broke into her thoughts again, seemingly nervous by the blondes cold silence. “Look, I prepared the salt circle with summoning salt crystals and everything. You don’t actually have to worry about An- Onya setting anything on fire.”

 

Raven’s smile was hopeful but Clarke’s eyes were murderous.

 

With a sigh the blonde turned to the demon.

 

“I know this isn’t your fault and you were probably doing something important before you were dragged here with a spell that my father did his best to hide.”

 

Anya raised an eyebrow.

 

“But can you please teach Raven a lesson in… Humility?” Clarke’s voice was dry.

 

The demon’s grin showed teeth and Raven looked like she was going to faint when she saw the fangs.

  
“Of course,” Clarke winced. The demon was using some of her abilities to give her voice a chilling effect.

 

“Humility…” Raven trailed off when she saw the demon easily walk out of the salt circle.

 

Anya turned to examine Raven and the Latina girl actually fainted.

 

Clarke tried not to but she was in a bad mood. She laughed.

 

“It’s been a boring century. I’m sticking around for a while.” Anya said authoritatively.

 

Clarke sighed. According to all rules of summoning, kicking out a demon you had summoned was incredibly rude. “I though you might say that. But you are sleeping on the couch.”

The demon smirked. “We’ll see.”  


Clarke let out a soft groan. Trikru demons always caused trouble. There was a reason her father had warned her against summoning.

 

_Although even though this is troublesome… Meeting my childhood hero is kind of cool._

 

“I’ll get you some sheets,” Clarke sighed.

  


**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

Raven had woken up. Clarke watched warily as Raven watched the demon sitting on her couch watching TV. It was another human show on the danger the magic world presented. When they flicked into their nightly special on fucking _demon hunters_ Clarke strode over and went to turn it off.

 

However, before she could reach the TV remote the air around her seemed to solidify, holding her in place. She made a choking sound as air refused to slip into her throat and Anya grunted before swishing her hand, effectively freeing her head.

 

Raven watched in horror as this all-powerful demon held the most powerful witch she knew in place easily. She had a feeling Clarke might be bale to break free but didn’t want to reveal the extent of her powers to the strange horned woman. She also knew Anya watching this show would be disastrous. It made Raven sick herself. After all, shape shifters, skin changers, witches and wizards and so much more had all descended from demons. Everyone knew vampires were just an under evolved form of a demon. Raven went to get up but felt like gravity had increased around he. She sighed, knowing struggling was useless.

 

Clarke swivelled her head to look at the demon lounging on her couch, boots propped on her coffee table as she watched the intro to the hideous show. A show that made Clarke’s blood boil.

 

“Onya, you don’t want to see this.” Clarke pleaded.

 

The show tracked down dangerous demons or demon descendants and killed them. It was a honourable cause.

 

At least, that’s what they portrayed it as. Really they found any demon descendent (almost everyone in the magic world, except for a few pretentious ‘human descendants’) that had committed a minor infraction and brutally killed them on television.

 

What they did to actual demons was… horrific. And the demons were always killed even if they were innocent.

 

“Oh, I think I do ,” Anya’s voice was a dangerous purr.

 

Clarke watched on in horrified silence as the TV show fooled a group of hunters chasing down a mid level demon. The ratings were always higher when they found real demons.

 

When they caught up to her, Clarke felt her breath catch in her throat. “Onya, please!”  

 

The position Clarke was in meant that no matter what, if her eyes were open she would see the violence about to be committed.

 

Anya’s eyes gentled slightly. Suddenly Clarke felt her entire body, felt her soul, being twisted and rearranged and shifted – it made her nauseous. But suddenly she was next to Anya on the couch and Raven was freed from her own captivity. Raven took one look at the TV and made a run for it but Clarke watched Anya. She owed her that at least. But then she saw the resolve in Anya’s eyes and realised that for the demon’s sake perhaps she should force herself to see.

 

The demon was a small Trixten. It was a pale purple with darker splotched covering it’s back, a milky white belly and a long unicorn tail with white hair on the end. Her short white hair framed a small face with big eyes and her goat like legs were tied together with a weighted throwing rope that no doubt had sharp wire running through it. The blood on her legs was telling and the poor girl’s hooves were badly damaged.

 

She bleated in fear and Clarke whimpered, knowing what came next. Anya’s fists tightened as they watched a man take a spiked metal club to her already damaged feet, destroying the hooves without a care. The TV presented crowed about justice as the cut off her tail and brutally used small knives to dig her horns out for trophies, chunks of white hair falling to the ground. Clarke’s stomach jumped and she knew she was crying. The demon’s screams would haunt her.

 

The next twenty minutes encompassed a bloody torture before they shot the demon in the head. It’s body turned to ash and the hunters cheered. The TV presenter congratulated them and commentated as they started staking out a house not far from the murder scene. Clarke hated knowing that some human descendant had probably summoned her as a Christmas present for an entitled child and then abandoned the Trixten with no way home when the child lost interest.

 

Feeling Anya’s accusatory glare, Clarke tried to – and failed- clear her eyes before nodding towards the television her eyes were glued to. “This is how my father died.”

 

The TV presenters voice boomed. “We’ve found the wizard who’s been hiding this demon from us for the last two weeks; a crime indeed! We’ll see how he feels about breaking the law in a few minutes!”

 

Clarke wiped her nose as Anya turned back towards the TV. They watched as the poor wizard, young by the looks of it, was chased down and shot eight times with viper bullets - special made bullets for those within the magic community. They prevented magical regeneration from occurring, almost always ensuring death.

 

Clarke flicked her hand and the TV turned off. She was feeling sick. That man’s death reminded her too much of her father's.

 

“Guess you came for a visit at a bad time, huh?” Clarke’s voice was hoarse. She desperately wanted to pretend that she hadn’t been sobbing.

 

“That Trixten was young. No older than thirteen. They have a lifespan of about 150 years.” Anya’s voice was devoid of emotion.

 

Clarke gasped. The girl had been so young.

 

“I’m sorry.” She cried.

 

“It is not your doing. The only crime you have committed is to become a bystander. This can be forgiven because for your species, you are young. Witches are immortal, are they not?”

 

“We are, Onya. But, by today’s standards I am not young. I am seventy nine. Most witches and wizards are not expected to live past a hundred. The humans kill us before then. I am sorry. It’s just… frightening. My father tried to help but he was killed.” Clarke took a deep breath. Something about the demon inspired her to tell the truth.

 

She vaguely remembered reading that Anya had sometimes been referred to as ‘Deliverer of Truth’.

 

She also remembered staying up late reading stories of the magnificent, but sometimes terribly gory ways she had obtained that truth.

 

Anya snorted. Clarke looked at her in surprise.

 

The demon reached over and gripped her chin. “You are a child. I am older than this world, Clarke Griffin. You are but a star amongst a thousand galaxies, a million universes. The fate of this world does not rest upon your shoulders. If you choose to bear the weight of change, that is a choice only you can make, _goufa._ Now, I must leave. I have business that I must attend to.” Anya released her chin and swept out of the house, leaving a stunned Clarke alone on the couch in a lonely house, situated in one of the only safe magic communities in her area.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Heda

 

Chapter 2

  
“What do you mean she's gone, Clarke?!” Raven shouted.

  
“I mean she's gone! She left last night after that stupid show aired. She was pretty… Upset.” That was one way to put it.

  
And the cryptic information left behind… Weird. What had been the point of that whole you're a child thing anyways?

  
Truthfully Clarke knew that it was Anya’s way of absolving her of some of the guilt she had taken on after the hunters killed the Trixten, but it didn't make her feel any better now.

  
“Look, Raven, it's morning now. She'll have to be back soon. Besides, Onya has never been described as particularly malicious without reason… I mean if you cross her or the Heda you're fucked but normally she is rather passive. Chaotic neutral, like most Trikru. She'll cause trouble but she won't actually have the intent to do horrible things to people.” Clarke explained, her patience wearing thin.

  
“Heda? Chaotic neutral!? What the fuck are you talking about? She's a demon and you just let her go!” Raven shouted.

  
Clarke snapped. “WELL IF YOU HAD LISTENED TO ME AND NOT SUMMONED HER WE WOULD BE FINE.” Clarke paused and caught her breath, ignoring Ravens shocked look.

  
Clarke never shouted.

  
“You should have researched this before even thinking about it. Trikru are fiercely protective, always enact their revenge, ridiculously loyal and incredibly deadly fighters. The Heda is their leader, the leader of pretty much all bigger demons since she formed the coalition that binds all twelve clans Because lesser demons normally serve higher demons that means she is in charge of them as well. She's basically a queen of demon kind. You summoned her most trusted, most powerful general.” Raven blanched and Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose.

  
“Just give me some space, Raven. God knows I need it right now. Anya will be back soon enough.”

 

  
OO*O*O*O*O*O*OO

  
Anya felt the all too familiar pull of her Heda as she gazed at the remains in front of her. She had hunted them throughout the night and had thoroughly enjoyed ripping them apart, though their blood had been tainted with the taste of human evil, their skin oily and uncomfortable against her fangs when she pierced it.

  
They been laughing about the Trixten when she found them. Laughing about the wizard they killed. She'd enjoyed their deaths greatly.

  
It made her sick to think of the child killers that inhabited this world. To think of humans developing weaponry and hatred strong enough that incredibly powerful witches like Clarke Griffin were terrified them.

  
Clarke Griffin.

  
Anya smirked as she thought of the big blue eyes and blonde hair. Lexa needed one more contender for the championship to begin. Something her previous second had been desperately avoiding.

  
And of the entire cohort she didn't have a witch yet. And a witch as powerful as Clarke… With training she could do well.

  
Anya wiped the smug look off of her face as she transported herself into the demon world, shadows wrapping around her and collapsing her very structure, remaking it lazily in Lexa’s home.

  
Anya spun as she heard a shocked gasp. A naked, busty upper middle demon watched her with wide, scandalized eyes from a soft chaise lounge. Knowing from the scent of sex in the room that the girl had been… Exchanging pleasantries with Heda she payed the intruder no mind.

  
Anya did however take a few moments to appreciate the gorgeous woman, who had become less shocked and more… Inviting in her demeanour. The heavy breasts sat perfectly on her body, and the girl had more weight on her then the tiny models human preferred. Anya could see -what did the humans call them? Right, love handles, that led to a well kept private area and shapely, soft thighs. The demon had gorgeous eyes with no whites that resembled a galaxy, long fingers and pointed ears. Her skin was a lovely midnight blue hue with vibrant, glowing orange, red and yellow oblong spots decorating it. Raven black hair exploded from her head in inescapable curls, glittering in the light.

  
Anya smirked. Lexa had good taste. Despite this, she did not respond to the she demons suddenly seductive looks. Although Anya answered to Lexa, she had once been her First and it would not do for her to have Lexa’s leftovers (unless she was stealing food from her plate - Lexa also had expensive tastes during peacetime).

  
Finally Lexa swept into the room in all of her commander regalia, pitch black wings following her with shadows clinging to the tips. She stopped at the sight of the nude demon and gaped a little. Sudden realisation dawned on her and she shot Anya a look that said, ‘Wait, Please.’

  
Anya bit back a chuckle and nodded, watching as her former second approached the now meek demon. Anya knew that even if the woman had flat out asked Anya to join her in bed Lexa would not punish her. After all, Lexa didn't commit (not any more) so she did not see it fair to ask her lovers to. The fact that demons couldn't contract most diseases helped.

  
“Kahtiya, sorry for not addressing you earlier,” Lexa gently said, using her fingers to grasp the demons chin lightly, pulling her eyes towards Lexa's own.

  
“It's okay Heda,” she murmured coyly.

  
Lexa bit back a devilish grin. Kahtiya was always interesting.

  
“Ah, but it is no ones fault but my own for forgetting your presence here. Unfortunately I have very important matters that require my and my generals immediate attention. Will you be able to safely find your way home?” Lexa's voice had taken on a tone that was both gentle and reassuring, ensuring the girl wouldn't be hurt.

  
And it worked. Those starry eyes slipped from coy to softly pleased in but a moment. Something about Heda treating her gently always improved her day. Especially since she often saw Heda being stern and well, commanding.

  
Anya was pleased. She had raised Lexa from the tender age of three after both her parents died, and it warmed something inside her to see how well the firecracker had turned out. Although certainly a, as the humans would say, player, no one had more respect for the women they invited to their bed than Lexa (except for perhaps Anya). Both women always made their intentions clear before bringing someone home.

  
“Of course, Heda.” The woman, who Anya had deduced to be perhaps two hundred and thirty years old, young compared to Lexa's odd thousand years. Anya herself was perhaps five thousand years. Yes, she told Clarke she was older than the world but honestly, people living amongst the humans are always so gullible.

  
Shooting them both a quick grin, her spots sparkling extra bright, Kahtiya stood and allowed a form fitting yellow dress that flared at the waist and fell to her knees materialise on her body. It was followed by a frill apron and a headscarf to stop the dust from getting into her hair. White slippers wrapped around her feet and the outfit was complete. She curtsied, the mysterious twinkle never leaving her eyes, and sashayed out of the room. Lexa's eyes followed her movements and Anya snorted when she saw the brunette lick her lips.

  
“You're insatiable,” Anya chuckled.

  
“I know.” Lexa laughed.

  
Anya loved the familiarity between them but it was time to get to work.

  
“Why have you called me back?” The honey blondes tone was serious.

  
“I was concerned with how long you were gone,” Lexa admitted, stiffening her spine.

  
“After all, the only person with access to our summoning spells is Jake Griffin, who swore to only use them in the most dire of situations.”

  
Anya looked at the brunette before speaking.

  
“Jake Griffin is dead. Murdered who knows how long ago, probably within the last twenty five years. The books were entrusted to his daughter, Clarke. She didn't summon me though. That was her little shape shifter friend. Can you believe she thought a salt circle, not even fucking charged, would contain me?” Anya chuckled.

  
Lexa joined her. A salt circle? What did this shape shifter take them for, peekaboo ghosts?

  
After the pair had gotten their breath back Anya settled into a plush chair, Lexa taking her usual power stance, leaning against the table.

  
Anya took her in for a second. Wild brown hair, small horns jutting out just above her ears and curving slightly back towards the back of her head, a lean figure and sharp features. She was currently in one of her three forms, her massive wings fluffed out behind her. Anya remembered how those was would give the slightest involuntary twitches at inopportune times. They were often a cause for embarrassment for the girl when she was growing.

  
Anya raised her eyes to Lexa, raising an eyebrow in askance.

  
“What have you learnt? And why do you smell of death and humans?” Lexa's voice was once again that of the commanders.

  
“A group of humans have become bloodthirsty after the magic world was revealed. Their hunters are broadcasted to the whole world as they murder innocent demons and decendants. Last night I watched them kill an innocent Trixten, a child at that. This morning I hunted them down and ripped them to pieces.” Anya struggled to keep her voice even.

  
Lexa's shoulders were stiff with rage. Trixtens were known for their gentle nature and love of being warm. Their large eyes often endeared people to them. They had slight kleptomaniac tendencies (jewellers had wards specifically to keep Trixtens away) but more often than not they were easily persuaded to give stolen items back. Trixtens were, in a word, harmless.

  
“The murder of the child was brutal. They kept her horns for a trophy,” Anya's composure broke a bit as she snarled out the words.

  
Lexa growled.

  
“Do you think that this is linked to the stolen summoning spells that were released into the human world?” Lexa asked quietly.

  
“I'm afraid it might be,” Anya replied.

  
Lexa sighed. “Well then I have a new job for you. Stay in the human world now that you've been invited… Don't get yourself banished. See if you can trick the shape shifter who brought you over into summoning me as well. Investigate more into these hunters if you can. Keep your killings quiet and be careful not to kill when you feed. Also, find and send back as many demons as you can. Keep them safe. I doubt you will find any that are to powerful for you to send back.”

  
“Yes, Heda. Also, you know I haven't accidentally killed during feeding since before you were born. Plus I will just consume extra human food to keep the hunger at bay. Maybe I'll enchant that shape shifter to be my kitchen bitch for a while, teach her a lesson about messing with things she doesn't understand,” Anya finished with a grin.

  
Lexa laughed. “Just don't hurt her or mess with her mind to much. If this develops into war we will need a safe place to land, which means keeping good with the people who love there.”

  
“Sha, sha Lexa. I understand.” Anya chuckled.

  
“Oh, one last thing…”

  
Lexa turned. “Yes?”

  
“If you can convince her and she comes willingly,” Anya started, blonde hair and blue eyes flashing in her mind's eye, “I've found you the final competitor for the Tournament.”

  
Anya smirked as Lexa paled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it... Please comment :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> world building and plot ;)

  
  


**Chapter 3**

 

Clarke was humming to herself as she sliced a thick piece of ham for her sandwich. It was a peaceful day. She’d closed the shop for the day and was enjoying having a bit of a relax. She finished off her sandwich and put it on a plate, putting a small bowl of strawberries and yoghurt next to it. It was than that Anya, who had been missing for about sixteen hours, decided to appear. 

 

“Hello, Witch,” Anya purred. 

 

Clarke jumped, and if not for Anya magicking the yoghurt to the bench it would have gone everywhere. Clutching her chest Clarke tried to get her breath back as her pulse skyrocketed. 

 

“Don’t sneak up on me Onya!”Clark huffed.

 

Much to her ire she was met only with an amused, boisterous laugh.

 

“Where have you been?” Clarke demanded, finally putting away both the yoghurt and the ham.

 

“I was dealing with the hunters,” Anya said simply. 

 

“What do you mean dealing with, Onya?” Clarke sighed. 

 

Anya shrugged. “I was still picking bits of them out of my nails this morning.”

  
Clarke just looks at her, She wants to scold her (which is a ridiculous idea in itself) but ultimately, she’s pleased. After all, the hunters had it coming. Instead she says, “Great. They’ll probably follow you here and slaughter Ravena and myself for interacting with you.”

 

Within seconds Anya’s arms were around her, trapping her own arms to her body. Clarke squirmed uncomfortably when Anya spoke from where her head was buried in Clarke’s neck. She could feel sharp incisors in her skin and tried to ignore the fact that high level demons had a varied diet that included blood.

 

“Don’t worry Clarke. No one can track me, except perhaps  _ Heda.  _ You and that pesky shape shifter are safe.” Anya’s purr was not reassuring. 

 

“Gee thanks,” Clarke was sarcastic. 

 

Anya just laughed again, releasing the fidgeting blonde. 

 

“I’m going to visit the bird. Ta,” Anya sings as she picks up the plate with Clarke’s sandwich. 

 

Clarke spends so long figuring out that by the bird she means Raven, that by the time she realises Anya has stolen her lunch she’s already gone. With a groan, she flicks her wrist and the fridge opens, ham and tomatoes floating towards her. 

 

She  _ hates _ Raven and her stupid inquisitive nature right now. 

 

At least she pays rent.

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

  
  


As Anya left the room, newly aquired plate of food in hand, she smirked to herself. Lexa hadn’t been pleased that Anya had found someone to complete the cohort for the tournament, for the  _ championship,  _ but had ultimately had no choice. Anya was, and always had been, ridiculously persuasive. It didn’t help that Anya had known the Commander for essentially her entire existence.

 

Oh, but convincing her had been fun.

 

\---

_ “What do you mean, Onya?” Lexa fumed as she wore a hole in the carpet, pacing.  _

 

_ Anya took a moment to reflect on the fact that there was possibly no one else Lexa would dare show this amount of emotion to, not even in the throws of passion with one of the numerous women she took to her bed. _

 

_ “Pardon?” Anya played innocent, knowing it would piss her former second off.  _

 

_ It worked. Lexa twirled round to face her in an absolute cloud of rage, green eyes sparkling like hell fire. _

 

_ Anya smirked.  _

 

_ “What. Do. You. Mean! About finding a final competitor! Don’t play at being daft about something as serious as this!” Lexa was struggling not to shout. _

 

_ Anya laughed.  _

 

_ “I mean that I have found the final competitor for your tournament. A beautiful and powerful blonde witch. I will train her myself. You merely have to convince her to come. Remember, all competitors must be willing, not coerced in any way, shape or form.” Anya articulated.  _

 

_ “I know the laws, Onya. I have respect for others as well, on top of that. But why would you do this? You know how I feel; that’s why I entrusted finding the final competitor to you.” Lexa sat down, her head in her hands.  _

 

_ She ignored the sharpness of her horns against her hands. Her wings dropped down so that they pooled across the floor, the shadows that clung to them, clung to Lexa, flitting about anxiously before settling morosely on Lexa’s still form. _

 

_ Anya felt a shot of sympathy. She did love Lexa, after all.  _

 

_ Morphing her own wings she strode over to where the usually stoic brunette sat, seemingly distraught. This, Anya supposed, is what happens when you keep feelings bottled up for over half a century.  _

 

_ She sat down next to the commander and draped her right wing around the girl’s shoulders, like she had when Lexa was a small child, afraid of her own shadow. _

 

_ “You entrusted this duty to me because you knew that I would know when you were ready. It is time, Lexa. As Heda you require someone you can connect with deeply, someone who can share your burden without cracking. It has been six hundred years since your beloved’s demise. I know it hurts. And I know that you will always have a place in your heart for Costia. But your wounds have begun to heal with time. The only place to go now is forward.” Anya’s voice was gentle and Lexa leaned into her embrace, falling prey to her weakness just this once.  _

 

_ “What if no-one in the cohort is right for me? What if no one… Clicks. Onya, what if there is no one else?” Lexa murmured, the familiar pang in her heart awakened by the mention of Costia. _

 

_ “Then we find a new cohort, Lexa. Don’t you worry. There will be someone. You are a star, Lexa. Your burn so brightly even though you are surrounded by so much light. It is only natural for a light of equal force to be drawn to you, away from the shadows. I believe we can find that light. You will be strong together. Love is not weakness,  _ goufa _ ,” Anya provided a gentle smile and Lexa sighed, relieved.  _

 

_ “You say this witch is the descendant of Jake Griffin?” Lexa asked.  _

_ Anya positively beamed. “Yes. She has so much potential, training her will truly be a treat.” _

 

_ Lexa chuckled.  _

 

_ “I’ll make you a deal, Anya,” Lexa sounded tired.  _

 

_ Anya raised an eyebrow, a clear hint for her to continue.  _

 

_ “You have either her or the shapeshifter summon me into the human world so I can speak to the witch and get a handle on this… Human demon hunter issue and I will  _ try  _ to convince the witch into joining the cohort. No promises.” _

 

_ “Deal,” Anya agreed, tightening her grip on the girl next to her.  _

 

_ “Don’t worry, Lexa. I won’t let you be alone. Not anymore.” Lexa leaned into the older demon, feeling a shot of contentment.  _

 

_ If Lexa looked after all of demonkind and the Coalition, than Anya looked after her. _

 

_ \--- _

Anya shook herself out of the memory as she strode into the pesky shape shifter’s dingy ‘workshop’, her mission on her mind.

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

Raven was happily fiddling with a bit of mortal technology in her shop which was, in reality, the back room of Clarke’s cottage. It got quite drafty come winter, no matter how much she weatherproofed it - she suspected Clarke had cursed it for some prank she had pulled once.

 

Well, she was, until everything she was touching was swept to the side of the desk as booted feat appeared. 

 

Her indignant  _ hey!  _ Was cut off when she saw who the intruder was. 

 

Anya gracefully sat down cross legged on the tan skinned girls desk, sandwich in one hand, her chin leaning on the other. The odd scraps of metal were easily pushed aside, and it was amusing to watch the indignation spreading across the girl’s face freeze as she recognized the demon in front of her. 

 

The mean thing inside Anya’s brain chuckled at that. 

 

“Hello birdie,” Anya cooed. 

 

“T-That’s not my name, d-demon,” Raven managed to stammer out.

 

Smirking, Anya let a blue flame engulf the tip of her index finger. She dragged it against the wood of the table, her eyes never leaving Raven’s as the wood smoldered. 

 

“Now, now. That’s not very nice. After all, you summoned me. Name’s you can call me include  _ My Lady, Truth Bringer, Beautiful Sun, High Demon Onya Trikru, High Trikru General, Bringer of Desola-,”  _ Anya was cut off.

 

“Cut it out,  _ Onya!” _ Anya assessed the girl, who seemed as surprised by her sass as Anya was.

 

Lips twisting up, Anya let her wings, a very dark gray pair speckled with white, unfurl and materialise behind her. They spread out just slightly, the tips dragging across Raven’s table before curling in, closer to where Anya’s hands gripped the edge of the table. 

 

Raven started sweating. 

 

The black haired girl had to admit, she had never been so attracted to someone who scared her so much before. Anya was like a wildfire, beautiful and dangerous all at once. 

 

Honestly, Raven hadn’t really read anything about her before summoning. She’d just seen the multiple sketches and seen the notation that said she spoke english and kind of gone for it. 

 

So far, Raven was alive though. Which was good. And no one had teased her about fainting when Anya broke through the salt circle - yet.

 

At Raven’s outburst Anya simply raised her eyebrows before taking a bite out of the sandwich she had relieved Clarke of, humming when she tasted some kind of Earth meat. It tasted good, but Anya knew she would need blood soon. Preferably that of a magic creature. She knew there were donation points and clinics thanks to a bit of TV surfing, but she also knew they were… Popular targets for demon hunters, and she was  _ trying  _ to lay low.

 

Which meant she’d have to go through all the effort of finding a willing donor. After all, she wasn’t a savage.

 

“So,” Anya ventured, “These hunters seem like a problem.”

 

Raven looked at her warily. “Yes…?”

 

“I know someone who could help wipe them out. Y’know, make your life a bit safer and all that.” Anya shrugged nonchalantly. 

 

“Who? And why would you help us?” Raven was suspicious. 

 

“Oh, well, it’s just a… friend of mine. And because, believe it or not, we demons do actually have ties to Earth. They are just not glaringly obvious, darling.” 

 

Raven scowled any Anya smiled, taking another bite out of her meal. The throbbing vein in Raven’s neck was quite distracting and Anya was struggling to ignore it. 

 

Raven’s voice brought her back to the real world. “What would you want from me?” 

 

Anya smiled and it wasn’t at all pleasant. 

 

“Well, if she brought herself here it could be… catastrophically violent, as is the nature of these things. Plus, it would draw a lot of unnecessary attention to us and our plans… Essentially, everything would go quite smoothly if you summoned her.” Anya finished with a disinterested examination of her nails.

 

Raven was silent for a moment before the expected outburst began. 

 

“NO, no, and definitely absolutely NOT, Onya. NO. You  _ saw  _ how furious Clarke was! I’m sure she’s hidden the book by now anyway. But no. No summoning. Not for me, no thank you. Look what happened last time!” Raven gestured wildly at Anya who was still sitting contentedly on her desk. 

 

Anya cocked her head at Raven, like a predator considering a meal. She was, in a sense. It didn’t help that she hadn’t tasted shapeshifter blood so long, since most of demonkind were banished from Earth at their own behest during the forming of the coalition, their summoning spells hidden away with only the most trusted bloodlines. Human affairs had been quite messy at the time in regards to demons and their descendants. Anya could still smell the burning flesh of innocent witches and the sad figures those who were hung made.

 

Now though, now things were changing. Demons held an important place in this world; after all, it was demons who had helped shape it, amongst others, in The Beginning. The Earth belonged to them, and their descendants, just as much as it did the humans.

 

Nonetheless, Anya continued on with the conversation. Raven swallowed at the intense gleam in her sharp brown eyes. 

 

“But just think, Raven. I’ve not done anything wrong since I came here, have I?” She was cut off by Raven, who indignantly muttered, “It’s been like what, thirty six hours?”

 

Continuing on, Anya proclaimed, “Just think of the good we could do… Think of all the demon’s and descendants who could have safe, normal lives without the constant threat of the hunters!”

 

_ Think of the good Lexa being bonded will do for the coalition. Think of the good it will do for Lexa,  _ was what she thought but didn’t say. 

 

Deciding to play on the girl’s oversized ego, Anya cooed, “Plus, for a shape shifter, a species which is notoriously not all that good at magic, you did an excellent job summoning me.” 

 

That was a lie. It had been a rickety, rough transition, like a child shaking a fish in a bag as she transferred it between tanks. Anya could have resisted the pull easily but they had predicted the Earth would be stable once more from reports of agents placed around the world, and it was an opportunity she couldn’t miss. After all, Earth did have a lot of important resources that they could offer, though most of them were luxuries (Lexa had missed human coffee). Though they had been wrong about the stable environment part what with the hunters rampant.

 

“Well of course I did, I’m me,” Raven preened, falling easily into Anya’s trap. 

 

“Exactly,” Anya cooed. “I believe in you.”

 

Raven seemed half likely to agree before she snapped herself out of it. “No. I can’t, Onya.” 

 

Anya leaned forward, her wings brushing against the girl’s arms. Raven shivered at the pleasant yet odd sensation, finding herself leaning closer to the demon without a care or thought of the possible repercussions. 

 

Her earlier fear seemed slightly misplaced as she took in the gold flecks in the beautiful demon’s eyes. Raven had always been a sucker for beautiful girls, except normally she had more game than this. Her eyes drifted down to slightly parted, plump and soft looking lips. They were slightly parted and her fangs were poking out a bit. The demon’s breath inexplicably smelt like lemonade despite the large ham sandwich she had just devoured. 

 

Anya watched the girl carefully. She seemed to be genuinely attracted to Anya; after all the demon wasn’t using any of her abilities on her (except for her skills of seduction, learnt from a lifetime of pretty girls and extravagant parties - when she wasn’t at war or working, that is). Her eyes traced the planes of the girl’s face, enjoying the way furrowed eyebrows led to expressive eyes and the way a pink tongue dashed out to wet chapped lips.

 

Anya doubted she would be sleeping on the couch much longer.

 

“Raven,” She purred, her breath hitting the girl’s upper lip. 

 

Moving intercetibally closer, she murmured, “Just think about it. Think about what we could achieve. I don’t want to trick you into this, though I do want to convince you… The more dedicated to the cause you become, the more I can tell you. I promise my friend truly wants to deal with the hunter issue. even if I can’t give you details on who she is yet.”

 

_ Or what else she wants to accomplish. _

“However,” Anya smirked, “I wouldn’t mind getting to know an intelligent, beautiful woman such as yourself a bit more… Intimately, outside of all this.”

 

Anya shifted so her lips would brush the starstruck girl’s ear. “Any questions?”

 

“No,” Raven rasped. 

 

“Good,” Anya declared. “Think about what I said - all of it. And think carefully, Raven.” 

 

With that, she playfully nipped the adventurous shapeshifter’s earlobe before hopping off the workbench and strutting out of the room, giving her hips an extra bit of sway when she felt Raven’s eyes on her, letting her wings flutter and arch up a bit. She had no doubt the girl would regain her confidence and sass in their next meeting. 

 

_ No one ever said she couldn’t have some fun while she worked. _

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

Clarke wasn’t often allowed into the market alone. 

After all, Clarke was what one might call an  _ impulse buyer. _ Nonetheless, she had snuck out with her trusty market basket and so far everything was going well. She had known that, since Anya was entertaining herself with Raven, no one would be there to stop her from doing some  _ essentials only  _ shopping.

 

Her first interaction had been with the herb vendor, who had gladly burdened her with a variety of fresh items, both magical and edible (in separate components of her basket of course) before gliding towards the artist’s store, a small place in a row of shops. Clarke’s finger’s itched as she saw the candle store to the left of the building as she entered the building. Promising to visit after Clarke breathed in the scent of one of her favourite stores: Maylene’s Art Store.

 

Humming happily she stocked up on paint, placing them into a store provided basket (Maylene hadn’t quite yet caught up with the times and gotten automatic magical tally sheets for the store - though to be fair, she was three hundred and two) Clarke let her gaze drift to the enchanted section, her mouth practically watering at the new metallic paints. They were actually shining and when the light hit them it looked like a spell was being cast. She thought of the painting she had just started sketching of the Atollonic Fire Horses and immediately added gold, umber, black and silver to her basket. After picking up three new brushes she  _ definitely needed  _ Maylene grumpily rung up her items, seemingly impervious to Clarke’s infectious good mood. 

 

Waving goodbye she strutted out, only letting her get waylaid in the candle store for a half hour (in which she purchased several completely  _ necessary  _ candle sets - she was quite pleased with the cactus tea lights) she looked up and let the sun hit her face, enjoying the warmth. It was certainly starting to get a bit nippier and she cherished what warmth she could find.

 

Clarke had finally moved on sidled up to the fruit seller gleefully and was now selecting copious amounts of summer stone fruits despite the fact that they were in the beginning of autumn. Perks of the green grocer being half dryad she supposed. They could make anything grow. 

 

The green grocer watched her with a slight smile. Clarke was always a good customer, especially when her latina shape shifter friend wasn’t attending her. The thing is, money wasn’t a problem. Clarke’s emporium of magical items, spells and potions was the best one in the small hill community. It was probably the best one amongst the neighbouring forest communities as well, and brought a lot of traders into the village. The problem was that Clarke overbought, and what she and Raven didn’t consume had to be used. Which normally led to Clarke experimenting. If she was using the goods to make some new magical product, it went well. Otherwise there was a reason Raven would only let Clarke cook if she had a recipe and was being carefully watched. 

 

The amount of meals Clarke Griffin could make (including a sandwich and instant noodles) could be counted on two hands.

 

As Clarke placed a particularly delectable looking kilo box of cherries into her basket (it was a very large basket and had an expanding spell on the inside, making it actually four times the size it’s appearance led one to believe) the stall keeper approached her. Clarke was just thinking about how grateful she was for the anti-weight charm that made her basket carriable when a voice broke through the silence. 

 

It was the airy voice of the half dryad. Clarke spun to face the beautiful person. “Oh, hello.” She said cheerfully. 

 

The vendor spared her a toothy white grin, her dark green hair flashing in the light before settling against skin the colour of soil. Although she had inherited the basic colour scheme of the average dryad and their talents with plants she had not inherited their hair, which was generally a variety of green plants and whatever flowers they fancied at the time. 

 

“Hello Clarke. Raven let you out shopping alone?” The girls deep voice was soothing. 

 

“Ah, no. She doesn’t know I’m here, actually.” Clarke smiled guiltily. 

 

The green grocer - ah, her name was Bell! Anyway, Bell chuckled before directing Clarke’s attention to a basket of bright red large apples. 

 

She gasped, “I can enchant those for the store and eat them!”

 

Clarke placed about fourteen in the basket, the magic tally sheet in her hand keeping track of what she’d have to pay Bell. Of course, they could ask Clarke to show the contents of the bag (that would take a while) but everyone in the community knew her, and knew she wouldn’t steal. 

 

Soon enough Clarke was fishing for gold coins to pay the woman (and tip her) when Bell spoke up. 

 

“It might be a bit harder to get some of these things in soon, Clarke.” The woman fiddled with her apron.

 

Clarke paused in her searching and looked up, concerned. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, what with the-,” Her voice lowered, “What with the hunter’s and all, lot’s of my connections are going quiet and such, hiding. I won’t be able to get as many seeds in from them now, and even I can’t grow specialty fruits from nothing.” 

 

Clarke slid the change across the small counter. “Is it really getting so bad?” 

 

Bell nodded sadly. “My oldest girl, Tanya? She was accepted to Yale on a full scholarship. Than, they found out she was a quarter dryad and three quarter wizard and sent us a letter, saying there had been a mistake and she couldn’t study there. Said she’d be a danger and it’d be to easy for her to cheat. As if my girl would have to cheat her way through college!” Clarke felt a stab of sympathy for the half dryad. 

 

“That’s dreadful Bell. How’s she holding up?” Clarke accepted her change, givving back three silvers as a tip. 

 

Bell knew better than to reject them by now and shrugged before continuing to talk. “Hasn’t left her room in three days. Some of the other colleges have sent rejection letters based on this as well now. She really had her heart sent on a human college; I think she wanted to experience the world a bit, y’know? Now it looks like she’ll be applying to start mid year at a one of our special magic colleges.”

 

Clarke was saved having to reply when Bell was called away to another customer. She instead flashed the dark skinned woman a smile and went on her way, the heavy news weighing her down. 

 

Deciding to put it out of her mind until she went home, Clarke stopped in front of a store selling bags and bit her lip. The green-blue, low slung snap top canvas bag was practically calling her name. 

 

-

 

A few minutes later with a new bag on her back, Clarke strode out of the stoor, infinitely pleased, Bell’s news tucked into the corner of her mind. She glanced apprehensively down at her basket, where the tops of some of the softer fruits could be seen. The fact that the bag was overflowing, and that the weight was bearing down on Clarke despite the anti-weight spell, meant that Raven was going to yell at her. 

 

Mind working furiously Clarke decided everything should be fine as long as she didn’t try to create anything new in the kitchen. 

 

Her thoughts drifted to the refugee’s who had been trickling into their village when their own was sacked by hunters - after all, small as it was it was one of the strongest.

 

Thinking of the refugees Clarke felt a shot of guilt. She’d been hiding and cowering like she wasn’t powerful. She’d been avoiding practising and getting stronger as to avoid catching too much attention. She’d let her father’s death cripple her. 

 

It made her wonder how someone like Anya, someone so strong and brave, could suffer being near her. 

 

With a sigh she turned her thoughts back to the food. Maybe she could gift leftovers to the refugees. Not even Raven could complain to much about that. After all, she’d been a refugee herself in the first wave of anti-magic violence nineteen years ago, just a year after her father died. 

 

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Clarke aimed to head out of the markets, determined not to buy anything else.

 

It was than that her name was called. Spinning on her heel, she saw a bear of a man standing in the shade, a pen with several moving shapes inside of it in front of him. Clarke approached at once, recognizing the man who was in fact one eight giant. 

 

“Gunter!” She cried, giving him the best hug she could with her arms full.

 

Looking down at the pen she was delighted to see that as usual, Gunter had a full house of the hellhounds he bred. He was one of the last breeders around. The dogs were fast, strong, smart and lived for about a hundred years. They were also first found in the demonic world and were one of the first species of pet the demons ever had. Their much larger, three headed cousin made an even better guard dog than they did. Though the hellhounds did grow to be about the size of a great dane and a half. 

 

“Oh, you’re looking well Clarke,” Gunter exclaimed. 

 

“So are you and the puppies,” She replied, her eyes snagging on a particularly energetic white blonde one. 

 

Each year they came round, a batch of puppies with Gunter, and each year Clarke promised to get one next year. She’d often denied Raven from buying the entire batch. It didn’t help that this was the first community Gunter visited when his pups were ready to be sold. She leant down to give the handsome mother by sitting complacently at Gunter’s side a pat, earning a licked hand in return.

  
Gunter laughed. “Well thank you Clarke.”

 

Smiling at him she said, “As always, I’ll have to buy one next year.”

 

She frowned when Gunter seemed to sober up at that. “I’m afraid not Clarke. I won’t be selling next year.”

 

“Why not?” She asked, aghast. 

 

The big man sighed, tugging on his beard. “Things are getting harder with the hunters and the big religious groups bearing down on us. Breeding and selling the hounds is nice, but I don’t want to leave my family behind for the underworld just yet Clarke. I’ll wait till things settle then start breeding again. My friend who breeds those special ocean cats, the one with the gills and all? He’s dead. Killed for ‘spreading the demon infection’. The mermaids have all gone into hiding at the news. I hear the population of them living in the Great Barrier Reef has gone down sixty percent.” 

 

Clarke wanted to cry. How had she not noticed how bad things were getting? She supposed it was easy to forget the rest of the world when you were holed up safe and sound in your protected community. As easy as changing the TV channel.

 

“I’m sorry, Gunter.” She put her hand on his arm. 

 

“It’s not your fault, kiddo,” He tried to console her but Clarke’s guilt was only growing. 

 

Jake would never have just stood by whilst this happened. 

 

Her eyes caught on the white blonde hellhound pup again as she remembered her dad’s stories of his mentor’s hellhound. It had been a black short hair that had looked vicious but loved every one. Clarke had wanted a hellhound ever since she heard that story.

 

This year’s batch were seasonal hair’s, the hardest to breed and the most expensive. It meant that they had naturally short, sleek hair in summer and soft, long fur in winter. There was never any need to trim them, like with the long hairs, and their fur, long or short, was always softer than the short hairs. It was the best of both worlds. 

 

She bit her lip. How many times had she told Raven no pets?  _ ‘Only a fish, Ray.’  _ She had said much to Raven’s dismay. This would be the height of hypocrisy. 

_ But it is my house… Plus, if this is the last batch when will I ever be able to get one? And Raven will love having a puppy around, she’ll probably teach it tricks and make it hold her spanner. Plus, things are getting tougher around here so a guard dog could be a good idea. And the money will help Gunter.  _

 

Mind made up, she released her lip and turned to Gunter, who was watching her curiously as she thought. 

 

“How much are they?” Clarke asked. 

 

Gunter’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Clarke, are you sure?” 

 

She nodded firmly. 

 

“For you? Twenty gold.” He said with a grin. 

 

“Gunter no! I know that seasonal hair’s go for at least fifty! And most of these are females!” Clarke protested. 

 

“You’re Jake Griffin’s daughter, girl. He did me many a good turn, and now that he’s gone I’ve got to do what I can to help you out. Twenty gold.” He was firm. 

 

“Gunter-,” Clarke started to protest but stopped when she saw the stubborn look in his eyes. 

 

“Are you sure?” She repeated his words from before. 

 

Gunter smiled at her and nodded. 

 

“Won’t you need the money now that you’re not breeding?” Clarke tried one last time. 

 

“I’ve got my finger’s in plenty of other pies, Clarke Griffin.” He chided. 

 

Clarke ducked her head and finally looked up into his expectant gaze. She sighed and caved, digging out and handing him twenty gold.

 

Looking at the pen, she noticed the white blonde one staring straight at her. She was mesmerized by it’s eyes, a famous trait of hellhounds. They were all black, but looked like they had embers glowing in them. When angered those embers could quickly become a flame.

 

The pup sneezed and Clarke fell in love. “That one, please.”

 

Gunter chuckled as she reached in and grabbed it, “I thought you’d like her.” 

 

Clarke put her basket down and held out her arms, smiling when Gunter placed the wriggling pup into them. It was already quite large and heavy but Clarke didn’t mind. It twisted and licked her cheek and she laughed. 

 

Looking up at Gunter she asked a few questions, “Will it be sad without it’s mother or siblings? Will it be okay around other people, animals and children? Also, can I sit in my backpack to carry it home?”

 

Gunter chuckled. “Like most dog or hound breeds, she’ll be fine. She’s outgrown needing her mother, plus now she’ll have you. As for the siblings, hellhounds don’t really mind who they socialise with as long as they are getting some attention. And yes, she won’t shit in your bag. She’s already quite clever, and the whole batch with only go outside and never near where they eat. They are all about three months old and growing fast.” 

 

Beaming, Clarke lent into the soft puppy fur, cooing at it softly. 

 

“I need a name.” She proclaimed, getting an amused look from Gunter. 

 

“I’m going to name her something good. I’ll go home and talk to Raven about it to.” She continued. 

 

Gunter laughed before clasping her on the shoulder. “I better get going Clarke. It’s almost dark.” 

  
She smiled sadly, realising she wouldn't be seeing him for a while. “Goodbye, Gunter.”

 

He gave her one last grin and when Clarke blinked, he was gone. 

 

She sighed before looking down at the pup that was snuggled into her collar bone. She smiled, knowing Raven was going to give her hell for this. She kissed the puppy on the nose before swinging off her new backpack and placing it carefully inside. It woke up for a few seconds and whined a little when she closed the top and let the clasp shut. The puppy's nose poked out of the areas at the top where it wasn’t clasped. Clarke let it sniff her fingers before talking. 

  
“Don’t worry, pup. We’re going home.” It quieted at that and Clarke smiled, placing the bag back on her back.

 

Looking up at the quickly darkening sky, Clarke set off home, hating the hill more than ever. 

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

She could hear raised voices when  she approached the cottage and Clarke bit her lip. 

 

“Where did she go, Anya?” Raven asked. 

 

“I don’t know. When I stole her lunch she did have a large basket out, though,” The demon replied cooly. 

  
Raven groaned. “I just cleaned out the fridge and pantry and now she’s going to fill them. She knows not to go shopping without me!” 

 

Gathering her courage, Clarke heaved herself, her basket and the bag (and the puppy) through the door, making her way into the suddenly cramped looking kitchen. 

 

Both the women already there went silent as Clarke hefted the basket onto the counter. Raven sighed. 

“Look, it’s all useable,” Clarke started. 

 

Raven look ready to bite when inspiration hit. 

 

“PLUS, we now have to feed the demon  _ you  _ summoned, and they eat a lot more than we do!” Clarke was smug and Anya was amused, even as Raven looked both annoyed and defeated. 

 

But something else caught the dark haired girl’s attention. “What about the backpack, Clarke. You didn’t have that before.’

 

“W-well,” Clarke stammered, but it was no use because that was the exact moment the puppy woke up and began to howl for attention. 

 

Anya’s eyes sparkled with an expression oddly close to joy as Raven gasped. “You didn’t!”

 

Clarke retrieved the puppy from her bag, whose tale immediately began to wag. 

 

“Surprise?” Her words had no effect on Raven.

 

“But you said no!” She exclaimed. 

 

Clarke sighed, “Gunter’s not breeding next year because of the demon hunters. I figured it was now or never.” 

 

The shape shifter settled at that. “Fine. I won’t yell. I might when I see the contents of the basket but not right now. And you will be sharing that puppy, Clarke.”

 

Clarke let out a sigh of relief and nodded. She turned to Anya, and seeing the demon’s eyes completely focused on the pup, she laughed and handed her to her. 

 

Anya made a pleased noise and instantly began petting it, cradling it close to her body gently. Her wings gave a pleased flutter. Raven and Clarke shared shell shocked gazes. 

 

Anya was being nice. 

 

“I never had time for a puppy back home,” She said almost defensively. 

 

_ Well,  _ Clarke thought,  _ That was that. _

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

It was ten at night and Clarke was on the phone to Octavia, a promising young witch and her only shop assistant.

 

_ “So, I’m back and I’m good to work the weekend so you can take it off like you planned to Griff.”  _ Octavia opened with. 

 

Clarke smiled. “Sounds good, O. Don’t burn it down or anything.” 

 

Octavia laughed.  _ “Don’t worry I won’t.” _

 

They exchanged a few more pleasantries until finally they hung up. Clarke walked back into the lounge room the see Anya settled into the recliner, puppy in her arms and ice-cream being steadily shoved into her mouth. 

 

Clarke reached out to grab it off her, a chastisement on her lips. “Onya, no, that’s  _ mine.” _

 

Anya  _ growled,  _ knocked her away and then fucking hexed her. Within seconds, Clarke’s hair had braided itself into tiny little braids and began to beat at her face. She squeaked and cursed at Anya, who laughed merrily. It was only when the puppy -who they had named Sunny - began to bark and cry at the distressed blondes feet that Anya called off the hex. 

 

She glared at the still laughing, ice cream and sandwich stealing demon before stupidly firing a counter curse. Anya gasped as her hair turned green. It only took seconds for the demon to change it back but by then Clarke was backing away cursing her own stupidity. 

 

She wasn’t fast enough and Anya quickly pinned her to the couch, snarling at her. Clarke felt the blood drain out of her face and was ready to fight back when Anya just started to laugh. 

  
“You should have seen your face, Clarke,” Anya chuckled and was still laughing when she got off Clarke and walked out down the short hall, the ice cream floating behind her.

 

Clarke groaned and let her head flop back on the couch, and only seconds later Sunny cannonballed into her chest, yapping and demanding her undivided attention and laugh. 

 

It was enough to make Clarke smile.

  
  


**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

It was about twelve at night when Clarke finally dragged herself to her room, the puppy following at her heels. She opened the door and groaned when she saw her bed. 

 

Her bed that was fully occupied by one asshole demon. 

 

“Get out.” She complained. 

 

“No,” Anya smirked.

 

“Please?”

 

“No.” 

 

“You know what, Onya? You’re Raven’s problem,” And with a quick spell and a swish of her hands, she transported the demon into Raven’s room.

 

Anya could easily counter the spell but Clarke had a feeling she was actually tired, which meant she’d probably just rest in Raven’s room. Setting up wards to keep both of them out (Raven yes, Anya would just smash through them) she collapsed into bed.

 

The puppy curled up next to her and Clarke smiled, burying her hand in it’s fur. It was only a few seconds later that Raven started shouting profanities and her smile only widened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it, I know this was a very long chapter! Please comment, I actually live for comments. Let me know what you think of everything and the characters!
> 
> (I know Clarke's habit of over shopping might be a bit out of place but I couldn't help myself)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaackk. schoolwork can suck my dick

**Chapter 4**

 

“So, Raven,” Anya purred.

 

The black haired girl stiffened. “What?”

 

“Have you thought about my offer?”

 

“No,” She lied. 

 

Anya chuckled drily and considered her options. She could sense that Raven was not in a negotiating mood. She’d try again tomorrow 

 

_ Victory stands on the back of sacrifice.  _

 

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t chase another kind of victory. She prowled towards Raven, allowing her wings to unfurl behind her. Raven turned to her, eyes wary. 

 

Raven couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The way Anya was moving, the subtle way she flexed her muscles and wings… it was almost like she was preening. Raven scoffed - no way. 

 

For a second Anya looked hurt and Raven couldn’t understand why. However, it was over in a flash and the demon was stalking towards her again. Raven spun around, not wanting to have her back to the predator. 

 

Raven soon realised it was a mistake. Anya backed her into the wall where she was leaning, raising her wings slightly and crowding her.

 

“And have you thought about my other offer?” Anya murmured. 

 

Raven's mind flashed back to the countless nights the demon seemed to curl up in her bed, stealing the covers and dominating the space. Yet she always kept a respectful distance from Raven, and conveniently always seemed to need to pull an all nighter when Raven’s leg was bad and she needed extra space to stretch out.

 

_ “However,” Anya smirked, “I wouldn’t mind getting to know an intelligent, beautiful woman such as yourself a bit more… Intimately, outside of all this. _ ”

 

God this woman - no, this demon- was going to be Raven’s undoing. 

 

But it had been so long since she had felt - wanted. Beautiful. Clarke was the most amazing best friend anyone could ask for, but it wasn’t the same. She craved intimacy. But no one really wanted a crippled, bastard refugee shapeshifter in their home, let alone their bed. 

 

“A bit,” Raven breathed. 

 

Anya’s eyes glinted and Raven wondered what she was doing. She had started actually reading about Trikru demons after having summoned one. It was quite common for them to have multiple… Flings, you could say. However, when they took on a more permanent lover or partner they were fiercely loyal and almost never left them. Often death was the only thing that could separate them - and sometimes not even that worked. 

 

Anya pushed forward, bumping her nose against Ravens and purring softly like a cat. 

 

_ But what would I be to her? Fling or Partner?  _ It was a tough question. 

 

Even tough was deciding what she wanted to be. 

 

It was a very rare moment of indecisiveness for Raven, which was unusual. She was very headstrong.

 

Her body made the choice for her. Raven pushed her head closer by an inch and brushed her lips against the demons - she tasted like ash and lemons. An odd combination, but not an unpleasant one, Raven found. 

 

Anya let out a contented sigh that briefly surprised Raven - after all, gentleness was the last thing she expected - before surging forward like Raven was water in the desert. Her wings reared up, arching over her head and fluttering like mad, a trait Raven found adorable.

 

Raven gasped as the demon’s teeth scraped her own, catching her lip as well. Anya immediately soothed the sting away. Strong hands lifted her up from underneath her thighs, and Anya didn’t seem to care that she had to hold the dud leg around her waist. The demon took a few steps backward and wrapped her wings around Raven. 

 

Raven felt herself melt - she’d expected to feel scared, trapped in this small, dark space with Anya. Instead, she just felt safe. Anya dragged her lips across Raven’s cheek and that steady purring was back, louder now. 

 

Raven kept expecting her to growl, throw her down and ravish her - but no, Anya was content to touch and cuddle, to adore her with soft touches. It might not have been Raven’s forte but she definitely liked it. 

 

Of course, Clarke chose this moment to storm into her studio. “Raven!” The blonde called out, not yet through the door.

 

Anya didn’t seem to care too much about any of that. As Clarke crossed through the threshold Anya let out a nasty snarl, clutching the girl closer to her body even as her wing's unfurled.

 

Battle ready.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Clarke deadpanned. 

 

Anya growled. 

 

“Ok. Not kidding. Listen, I need to go out for a couple hour’s to help Octavia out with a freak accident at the store. One of the potion’s got mixed with an exploding powder and now everything is covered in a slime that makes people’s hair change colours for twenty four hours. I guess we can talk when I get home…” She trailed off awkwardly.

 

Anya huffed and angled so that less of Raven was visible. She clearly wanted Clarke to leave. 

 

Clarke shuffled her feet before saying, “I need someone to keep an eye on Sunny when I’m gone. She’s been really sooky today and she can tell I’m leaving because she’s already crying.”

 

As if on cue, the puppy dashed into the room, tripping over it’s own feet. It cried and howled, circling Clarke with a depressed look on it’s face. Clarke shot them a pleading look. 

 

Anya sighed, giving in. She gently placed Raven back on her feet, her wings vanishing into smoke. She kissed the shape-shifter’s forehead before striding over to Clarke and picking up the puppy, even as she sent a heat filled look at Clarke. The puppy continued to whimper, looking at Clarke morosely. 

 

Anya huffed, cuddling it close. “What kind of Mother are you?” She asked.

 

Chin up, she strode out of the room, the oversized and fast growing puppy calming in her grip. She ignored Clarke’s indignant shout.

 

That left Clarke and Raven in an awkward silence.

 

“Um well-”

 

“Ah, so-”

 

They both stopped, looking at each other apprehensively. 

 

“I’m going to go bye see you later,” Clarke rushed out, spinning on her heel and dashing out the room.

 

Raven sighed, alone again. A slight blush rose to her tan cheeks as she thought of Anya’s protective behaviour.

 

Many of the men in her life, including Finn, had always been possessive with a hint of obsessive and it was terrifying. Anya had been…  _ protective  _ with a dash of possessive and it had left her feeling warm and safe.

She touched her finger’s to still tingling lips, and ducked her chin against her chest as a smile graced her mouth.

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

Fuming slightly at having been interrupted, Anya allowed herself to slowly calm down by petting the cute bundle of fur in her arms. It kind of reminded her of a young Lexa, full of life and joy and wriggling around whenever Anya held her, ready for the next adventure. Though, just like the puppy, she became deadweight in Anya’s embrace when she was tired (in private, she still did).

 

Sunny (Clarke needed a smack for not choosing a fearsome name befitting its breed) yapped in her arms, squirming. She laughed and after a few licks to the face, let the pup down. It ran around her feet, barking and whining. She thought of the dog food in the cupboard and then smirking, grabbed the last piece of Clarke’s favourite meat pie out the fridge and set it down for the pup. 

 

Anya shuddered slightly as her body reminded her of her need for blood. She’d have to get some next time she visited Lexa. They had a wide variety of human’s on specialised diets who had been selectively bred to perfection over the centuries. The practice might sound barbaric, but they were treated like kings and queens and lived in the lap of luxury. When they hit a certain age, they were able to retire to a protected village. If their beloved was a few years younger than the age limit, they would often plead their case to Lexa to bring them with them. Lexa never said no (unless it was the old man trying to bring the sixteen year old girl with him - after investigating and unearthing some disgusting truths, he had mysteriously vanished, leaving behind only a smear of blood). 

 

She hated to admit but Raven was the ultimate temptation. If they were bonded, drinking from each other would  be the norm. Descendants didn’t need blood like demon’s did but it made them stronger. Most seemed to regard it as unorthodox, but then, Demon;s had been absent from this world for so long until they recently began to reappear. Human’s and descendants had lost their fear of demonkind, but that wouldn’t last. Not with Lexa at the helm of the coalition. 

 

She crouched down, running her fingers through the pup’s soft fur before opening the door to the backyard, allowing the pup to frolic amongst Clarke’s well tended veggie patch. She thought of the soft human female back home that she often fed from, with hair so blonde it was almost white. Like the majority of the registered human’s in Polis, she was a sweet creature. She didn’t being fed from, especially since it was highly recommended that demon’s bring gift’s for the humans they fed from as often as possible (human’s had an obsession with collecting trinkets, she had discovered). If the humans on Earth were even a quarter as decent as the ones in Polis, there would be no issue. She thought of the Trixten and grit her teeth, wishing she could bring them back to life and kill them again. A lesser demon then herself might have fed from them, but Anya had standards, and their blood had been plagued with the taste of their evil doings. Something about the murder of innocent children had curdled their blood, already fouled from their disgusting diet. 

 

She had observed what the village people ate, and even when they ate high fat, salt or sugar foods, they were all homemade and fresh. The vile chemicals and highly concentrated salts and sugars found in human food were nowhere to be found. Clarke had once told her that most descendant’s bodies simply couldn’t process that kind of material. The blonde had even gone as far as to create a potion to flush it from the system as it made people so ill, and the young of the village were often reckless with what they consumed and did when they went on their outings.

 

Her mind once again drifted to Raven as she picked up Sunny, who was now begging for attention. Anya had found an unusual haven in Raven’s skin and touch. Something about her simply drew all of Anya’s focus.

 

She nibbled on her lower lip, her mind’s eye flashing her an image of Raven, bedecked in fur’s and luxuriating in Anya’s home. 

 

Anya banished the thought. Raven would never leave Earth - not unless Clarke left to. 

 

_ Which, if I get Lexa here and help convince Clarke to join the cohort I might -  _

 

Anya broke off that line of thought as well. She was not in the business of looking for a life partner. She had spent the last five thousand years enjoying only casual affairs, and that is how it would continue. 

 

No matter how much the girl’s liquid gaze affected her.

  
  


**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

Clarke sighed as she finally made her way out of the store. The air was cool, and winter was certainly descending. She rubbed her hands against her arms, muttering, “Not fire and flame, but a warm summer’s day.”

 

Her skin instantly warmed and Clarke smiled at the familiar tingle of her magic. It had been one of the first spells her Father taught her. She watched her breath slightly steam the air in front of her mouth and smiled. It had been stressful cleaning up her assistant’s mess, but Octavia had been so apologetic Clarke couldn’t stay mad. And it was only a few streaks of hair that were now teal coloured. Octavia’s hair had been a riot of colour by the time Clare arrived, and it had only gotten worse.

 

Her peace was interrupted by a strangled shout. “Griffin, Griffin!” 

 

She snapped her head towards the young warlock stumbling towards her, perhaps only eight years old. 

 

“Calm down, Benny. Where is your Father?” Clarke tried to calm him. 

 

It didn’t work. Tearful blue eyes gazed at her searchingly before he gasped out, “He’s with the man, Griffin. In the forest… he is- He’s-” He cut himself off. 

 

“You gotta come quick, Griffin!” Clarke nodded and the boy raced off, towards the forest and out the walls of the village. 

 

The man must not have been local to have wandered this far. 

 

Clarke’s skin prickled at the odd happenstances. Something was amiss, and the cold feeling curling in her gut said she would not like it when she discovered what it was. The boy skidded to a stop, dirt and rubble going flying.

 

Before Clarke could say anything, an older, gruffer voice called her name. “Griffin!” 

 

She walked towards it, before stopping cold. Benny’s Father was crouched over a bloodied body. “Hunters.”

 

Clarke paled but managed to know, even as her stomach dropped to her knees. How had they found them? She worked so hard to keep this place warded! 

 

She forced herself to step forward towards the still half obscured body, before turning to Benny. “Go to my house. Ask for Anya. Tell her to leave the dog with Raven and come immediately. Make sure she know’s it’s urgent.”

 

The boy nodded, but Clarke gripped his shirt before he could run off, “She might seem scary to you, but she will do you know harm. You will be safe with her, safer even then when you are with me. You need not have any fear, Benny.” 

 

The boy paled a bit, but was determined. He had disappeared in a few seconds.

 

Clarke dropped to her knees as she came near the body, opposite to Benny’s father. 

 

“He stopped breathin’ a few minutes ago. I tried the compressions and breaths long as I could, but it t’wasn’t doin’ any good. I thought maybe you could…”

 

“No,” Clarke breathed. 

 

She couldn’t feel any spark of life inside the man, even as her own dark magic stirred inside of her. She quashed it down, ignored the ugly voice that taunted her, begging her to find the soul and force it back. 

 

Clarke shuddered in revulsion at her own mind. 

 

“No,” She reaffirmed. “Dead is dead.”

 

Leaning over the horrific wounds, Clarke could clearly see that they followed the pattern of a hunter’s attack. The mage killing bullet in his thigh told the story almost as well as his mutilated body. The pups were nowhere to be seen, and Clarke sincerely hoped her had magicked them home ahead of time like he usually did, or at least to the next location.

 

Her chest burned with rage, and Clarke knew that she was no longer willing to be peaceful. She had tomes upon tomes of battle magic that she had refused to touch, for fear of unleashing the beast inside her. That fear seemed small in comparison to the body that lay on the cold earth, never to rise again.

  
Eyes burning with unshed tears, Clarke raised her hand and closed Gunter’s horrified, unseeing eyes for the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked. sorry for sadness
> 
> final year of highschool is kicking my ass friendo's. please come check out my tumblr and chuck us a follow. that is where u will find prompts, questions, sneak peeks, etc. find me at : running--with--stars
> 
> please leave a comment. I happen to like them. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yoyoyoyo

**Chapter 5**

 

Clarke watched as Anya approached. Later she’d smile about the way she walked with a steadying hand on Benny’s shoulder, but right now there was a corpse at her feet and a murderer in the forest. A murderer who undoubtedly knew about their village now.

 

Anya’s grim face said she had guessed as much. Clarke stood in silence with the demon as Benny’s father seemed to read the cues. “I’ll leave this with you, Griffin.”

 

“Can you find them?” Clarke whispered quietly, her gaze stuck on Gunter’s skin, pale with death. 

 

She could still feel Them, lingering around the corners of her mind. 

 

_ No,  _ she wanted to shout.  _ Go away. _

 

“I can try,” Anya breathed. 

 

A second passed and then she was gone. Clarke didn’t know how long she sat their, watching Gunter’s limbs become stiff before a slight change in the wind indicated Anya’s presence. 

 

“I tracked them out of the forest. There is evidence they must have taken an aircraft out. I could find them and kill them, but the damage is already done. By now they have most definitely told their superiors your village is here. Why did they not know previously?” Anya reported. 

 

“It’s all too common for hunters to target registered villages. We never revealed ourselves in the hopes of staying safe. Now they will say we are a threat for not registering. They will wipe us out.” Clarke was numb. 

 

“No they won’t Clarke. Reinforce your walls. I will help. You need to train in battle magic. I can te-” Clarke cut her off. 

 

“To what end?! We are a small community. We won’t survive an extended siege. A lot of our farmers live outside the walls, in little nooks and niches throughout the woods and the hills. Hell, the best herb witch in our region is 10 kilometers north of the woods, in a glade that offers no protection outside of what she can create herself. We need a miracle to fight this Onya!”

 

“Cl-” 

 

“No. My people might be few, but I  _ will  _ protect them, Onya. I know you’ve been itching to bring your commander here. This might be your chance. I want to know the terms.” There was a dangerous light in those blue eyes and Anya could sense her mind working at a hundred miles an hour.

“We should talk about this at home Clarke.” The blonde paused but nodded. 

 

“Right now we need to send word to Gunter’s family, and organise transport for his body.”

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

Clarke sat at the kitchen table, her body tense despite the too-big puppy that had wormed it’s way into her lap. Anya watched her carefully. 

 

Clarke knew she had to make this a negotiation. She couldn’t let Anya bring anyone here unless she had a guarantee they wouldn’t do any harm to her people. Her world.

 

She’d have to negotiate with Heda herself. But that would require a neutral ground. Her teeth caught her bottom lip as she raked her fingers through the puppy’s soft fur, sighing as it nuzzled into her palm, looking for treats.

 

(She had to speak to Anya about that - she was definitely giving Sunny to many treats).

 

“All you have to do is summon her. I’ll let her k-,” Clarke cut Anya off promptly. 

 

“No. I’m not bringing her here.” Clarke’s voice was firm.

 

Anya snapped. “Then what do you want, witch? You want her to save you but you don’t want another demon soiling your home?!”

 

Clarke raised her own voice. “I want to meet on neutral ground and agree on terms before in bring  _ the most powerful demon in known existence  _ into my home! And soiling? Is that really what you think I think of you?!” 

 

Clarke was standing nose to nose with Anya now, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe through her rage. Sunny circled around them, barking nervously as her parents argued. 

 

Clarke couldn’t even remember standing up from the table or putting Sunny down. She was tired and mad, and had just seen a close family friends body. Everything was starting to look a bit hazy, and she could  _ sense  _ Raven holing up in her worksop. Her friend’s heart rate had increased, and Clarke could feel her desire to stay out of their way and -

 

She shook herself out of it. Now was not the time. Looking into Anya’s stormy eyes she could see that she had noticed Clarke spacing out, yet neither of them were willing to initiate speech. The air was thick with tension and Clarke vaguely wondered if getting up close and personal with an angry, powerful demon was her best idea.

 

Anya broke first, her patience not the best. 

 

“Then what do you recommend,  _ Ms Neutral Ground?” _ Anya sneered. 

 

“I-” Clarke paused. 

 

She didn’t want to admit to it. She didn’t want it to be true. But it was the only place she could summon Heda without the potential for severe damage to be caused. 

 

She looked at Anya. 

 

“I can summon her to the In Between. She can’t get there on her own, but if she needs to she can leave.”

 

Anya’s whole body tensed. She took a step closer, totally invading Clarke’s space. She felt like a rabbit between a mountain lion’s teeth, but refused to let it show.

 

“You have access to the In Between?” It was quiet. 

 

To quiet. 

 

“And beyond,” Her voice was soft.

 

The silence was heavy, and Clarke watched as Anya processed the new information. 

 

“I will speak with Heda.” Her tone was final. 

 

Clarke nodded. 

 

A second later, Anya was gone.

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

Anya walked into Lexa’s rooms, settling into a comfortable chair to wait for her to return from the day’s work.

 

They had to much to discuss, after all. Her mind turned towards the bright blonde she was hoping to bring into Heda’s Cohort. 

 

_ Death Witch.  _

 

It certainly made things more interesting. Anya hadn’t encountered a Death Witch since before demonkind was banished from the human word. Only certain kinds of witches and warlocks could travel between worlds, Death Witch’s being amongst the best at it.

 

Anya didn’t know why she was so certain Clarke was a death witch. It was just gut instinct, she supposed. It had never failed her before, and she was counting on it now. 

 

Her lip curled. Clarke had so much raw potential. She was a talented witch, but ignoring her connection to death was crippling her. She could be ten times as powerful as she was now. Anya could sense a power within her, dark and vicious. She needed to learn to control it before it consumed her. And if she did… There would finally be someone worthy of Heda. Someone who was equal, who could act as a balance and be of benefit to Heda and the coalition. 

 

Also…  _ Someone Heda could be affectionate with _ , Anya mused as she thought of the dimple above Clarke’s lip.

 

She was broken out of her thoughts as Lexa stormed into the room, the doors banging against the walls. Fury followed her like a lover and Anya grimaced. Negotiating with Lexa in this kind of mood was always fun. Pity it couldn’t be delayed. 

 

_ It’s high time we gain a place in the human world again. They clearly require us to maintain balance. The slaughter of our descendants can only be blamed on us.  _

 

Lexa was pulled up shot when she saw her mentor sitting in her quarters. 

 

“Anya? You have returned?” She asked, rage momentarily forgotten. 

 

“For now, yes. What has you in such a tiff?” Her  _ fos  _ asked with a lazy smirk.

 

The anger brewing inside her returned like a wave crashing into the shore. “The  _ ambassadors.”  _

 

Lexa was snarling, her eyes glinting dangerously. 

 

Anya cocked a questioning eyebrow at her, crossing her legs and settling in as Lexa flounced into the opposite chair. Lexa waved her hands and Anya knew some bell somewhere was going off. Probably for food. 

 

_ Perks of being Heda, _ she thought (even though she got very similar treatment when she was home - in the human world she just took Clarke’s food).

 

“They can’t agree on anything,” Lexa grouched, running a hand over her face.

 

Anya was amused. “They never can, Leksa.”

 

Lexa grumbled but softened at the way Anya pronounced her name. Her  _ fos  _ would always soften the ‘xa’ into ‘sa’ to soothe her and it had never failed. Today was no exception. She felt her shoulders relax and her lips tilt up. 

 

“So. What brings you here, Onya?” Lexa asked, trying to be professional even as she slouched in her chair. 

 

Anya smirked, seeing right through her. 

 

“I’ve made advancements with Clarke. And the hunters.” She watched Lexa stiffen before she sighed and relaxed in resignation. 

 

“Alright. Report, then,” Lexa was not happy.

 

She didn’t need a bride. She was more than fine alone. 

 

“Well, it all ties in together, actually. I should state first, for clarity, that Clarke is a Death Witch. She hides from her nature and seems to avoid any kind of battle magic for some reason, which is probably why I didn’t see it before. She has a lot of potential.”

 

Anya paused and watched Lexa absorb the information in before moving on. 

 

“The hunter’s have found her village. She’s willing to meet with you in the In Between to discuss the terms of an alliance.” Anya watched her former second closely. 

 

“The In Between? She avoids her nature and her power, yet she has access to the In Between? Most Death Witches and Wizards don’t gain that ability until they have reached the advanced portions of their training, normally in their second century. Clarke is only in her first, is she not?”

 

“She is. Like I said, Lexa, she has a lot of potential. Training her for the cohort, and the resulting championship, would be a treat. I haven’t worked with that much raw power since you were just a kit yourself.” Anya got a sharp look for that comment, but she knew Lexa was just posturing (she hated being called Kit) and let it go. 

 

“I haven’t been to the In Between in so long, Onya. Not since - not since  _ her.” _ Lexa’s voice was hoarse. 

 

“I know. Oh, Leksa - I know. She won’t be there now - you helped her. She moved on. She is at rest Lexa. “ Lexa looked away at her words, trying to stop Anya from seeing her vulnerability. 

 

Anya stood up and strode forward and then gripped the sitting girl’s chin. “You must move on. You must be strong. You need to learn to love again, Leksa. And not just for the might of the coalition, but for yourself. You can do this. Save the humans and strengthen the coalition. Maybe in the process, you will save yourself.”

 

Lexa’s lip trembled but she nodded, and Anya held back a sigh of relief. She could see her Lexa fading away every day, living in the memory of a dark skinned girl with golden blood and black curls. it was painful to watch, especially knowing that Lexa was still here, was still flesh and blood, and yet she allowed herself to wither. She couldn’t allow herself to lose Lexa, not to this darkness. 

 

(Anya would never admit it allowed, the same way Lexa never would, but - Lexa was  _ hers.  _ Her  **_child_ ** , her heart, her soul. One day she will pass to a new plane of existence, and if all she leaves behind is  _ Lexa,  _ she would have succeeded.)

 

(But first, Lexa needed love.)

 

She softened her grip on Lexa’s face when the dark haired girl nodded once more, as if reassuring herself. 

 

“Anya, you smell of a shapeshifter.” Lexa’s voice had a teasing note to it that Anya would not stand for.

 

“Perhaps I am not alone in this ridiculous quest for a brid-” She was cut off by Anya’s hand smacking into the back of her head. 

 

“I will hear none of this childish commentary,  _ Lexa. _ Now. Shall I arrange a meeting with Clarke? She will have to summon you to the In Between, since you have no ties to it as of present.” Anya powered on, ignoring the small smirk on Lexa’s lips. 

 

“I could get ther-”Lexa started petulantly, but was cut off by Anya, “And you would use all your energy, and a chunk of your power, and probably hurt yourself in the process, and maybe even allow a few Guardians to cross over into our home to wreak havoc in response to your intrusion. At least Clarke summoning you would mean you were invited, something only a soul or witch could do.” 

 

Lexa sighed. Anya never let her do anything fun. 

 

“Fine. Make the meeting.” She flopped back in the chair. 

 

Anya smiled, gently ruffling her hair before allowing herself to slowly drift back to Earth.

 

_ Now we need to see if Clarke will bite. _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u like it guys. a bit of a filler when I am meant to be doing school work :P
> 
> please comment. comment's are good


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW for mentions of child abuse/child abuse mentions within the flashback.

 

**Chapter 6**

 

Clarke paused. 

 

“So she wants a meeting?” Her fingers tapped against her thigh nervously.

 

“I did just say that, yes,” Anya commented drolly. 

 

Clarke cut her a look and snatched the expensive cheese out the demons hands. 

 

“You keep consuming everything of worth in this household and you can pay rent, Onya.”

 

The demon gave her a half hearted growl but otherwise didn’t move. Deciding to avoid the topic of her upcoming meeting with her boss, she asked, “You seem lethargic.”

 

“I’m hungry,” She responded, offhanded. 

 

It had been a couple weeks since the hunters had met her teeth. 

 

Clarke scoffed disbelievingly. “You’ve eaten half the fridge!” 

 

Any turned her head slowly, and gave Clarke a lazy, wicked smile. “Wrong kind of hungry, Clarke.”

 

Oh. 

 

“Well…” Clarke trailed off awkwardly. 

 

“Never worry Clarke. I will find myself a paramour who is comfortable with me feeding off of them.” Anya said off-handedly. 

 

“What?” She squeaked. 

 

Anya gave her a curious look. “It is very common for demon’s to feed off their lovers, Clarke.”

 

“Okay. Okay. Cool. That’s, like, totally normal? Right?” Clarke was trying to process this new information. 

 

She had always seen… feeding, as a rather violent affair. Anya was implying it could be intimate.

 

“Yes, it is quite normal Clarke…” Anya seemed amused by her awkward behaviour.

 

Clarke busied herself with putting away the cheese and pushed away all thoughts of sexual intimacy with a demon.

 

“Well, I suppose that’s your business. Good luck,” She finished lamely.

 

Anya chortled, yet when Clarke tried to escape a quick hand snatched out and grabbed her arm. 

 

“This discussion isn’t over, Clarke. We need to arrange a meeting.” Anya’s voice was serious. 

 

Clarke yanked her arm away, suddenly furious. It was like Anya’s behaviour had flipped a switch, and now she was seeing red.

 

“Listen here,  _ Onya.  _ You are in  _ my  _ home. You are eating  _ my  _ food and sleeping in  _ my  _ bed so the least you could do is show some fucking respect. You’re so ancient and high and mighty? Don’t act like a child. I am under enough stress as it is. Gus is dead and this world is balancing on the tip of a knife yet this entire fucking village is looking to me to fix it. We can talk about the meeting when you get some manners,” Clarke finished, practically hissing. 

 

Before she could regret it, and before Anya recovered, she turned on her heel and grabbed her market basket, whistling to Sunny as she went. Slamming the door extra hard, she threw a spell at the house she knew she was going to regret and stalked off to the markets.

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

Anya stared after the blonde in amazement. Who knew the witch had it in her? Anya smirked. 

 

She had been slowly goading the witch these past few weeks, nibbling at her patience bit by bit. Clarke needed to man up to her feelings, learn to respect her power and learn to wield it like no other. 

 

Clarke was like a well of raw potential, and Anya had no intention of letting it go to waste.

 

Chuckling to herself, she went to leave the cottage. Perhaps she should visit the wood sprites - they always seemed to have little gifts for her, and delighted in nothing more than the flowers and plants she grew for them.  _ Deary me,  _ Anya thought, how would her Lexa react if she ever found out that Anya used her magic to grow flowers for sprites?

 

Shaking her head, she went to open the door. And swore. She went again and -  _ ouch.  _

 

Anya wasn’t sure if she wanted to snarl or laugh. The witch had set up a very powerful ward to keep her inside. Sighing, she set to work on shattering it, her fingers glowing in the dim light as the runes she spoke burnt her lips.

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

Clarke tried to move through the market as quickly as possible, yet still managed to find herself severely laden down with supplies. 

 

_ I’m using it as  a training exercise for Sunny,  _ she rationalised. 

 

Until she walked straight into a scowling Raven, the puppy cowering behind her as the tan woman rested her hands on her hips. 

 

“I swear market day was just  _ three  _ days ago Clarke.” Raven was trying her best to look intimidating. 

  
Clarke flicked her hair, still pissed from Anya. “Well, your new demon girlfriend ticked me off enough I needed some shopping therapy.”

 

Raven actually sputtered. “She’s not my girlfriend!”

 

“Fine,” Clarke reasoned, “Demonic fuck buddy.”

 

Raven growled at her and Clarke laughed. “I guess you really do need to get laid, huh.”

 

Raven’s eyes were flinty. “You’re banned from shopping for a month, Clarke.”

 

Clarke glared. “You can’t do that.”

 

Raven glared back, “I sure as hell can.”

 

They were locked in a tense silence for a few minutes until Sunny pushed her wet nose against Clarke’s clenched fist, whining for attention. 

 

Clarke smiled, picking up the pale bundle of fur. Maybe she could ask Anya to help train he- no. 

 

No, Anya could go float herself for all she cared. She cuddled Sunny closer and frowned. She liked Anya, and it certainly wasn’t like it was out of the usual for her to have such brutish behaviour. So why had she snapped so badly?

 

She was agitated for some unknown reason. And she was taking it out on her friends. 

 

Raven seemed to know this to, because she softened and said, “Clarke. Let’s go home. It’s been a rough week.”

Suddenly exhausted, Clarke burrowed her nose into Sunny’s pale fur and nodded mutely. She could apologize to Anya once her and Raven dealt with the aftermath of her therapy shopping. 

  
And then, she could actually arrange this Gods damned meeting with the Heda of all demonkind. The thought was as terrifying as it was thrilling. What was she like? Was she a savage, vicious brute, or a witty and unlikely compatriot, like Anya? Did she live up to the image Clarke had had of her as a child, the anti-hero that appeared in her imagination in flashes of fiery blades and twisting black shadows?

 

Or would she be yet another disappointment, another mark in an unnamed ledger? That was yet to be foreseen, Clarke supposed as she walked alongside Raven. The two brushed arms in amicable silence, letting each other know without words that all was forgiven. 

 

Clarke had a feeling Anya would be far more difficult to mend bonds with. And, eventually, Clarke would have to address the fact that her best friend was courting one of the oldest and strongest known beings in this universe.    
  
Clarke had to hold back a bark of laughter. She couldn’t talk, not when she was about to strike a bargain with the only thing stronger than Anya.

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

Feeling more than a little mullish, Clarke sat across from Anya at the dinner table without saying a word. Anya merely raised her eyebrow at her and Clarke frowned, before sighing and deciding to bite the proverbial bullet. 

 

“I’m sorry for my behaviour earlier.”

 

“By behaviour do you mean snapping at me like a petulant child or locking me in the house? By the way, your ward lasted exactly three minutes and nineteen seconds. Congratulations.”

 

Clarke ground her teeth. She liked Anya. She really did. She was just infuriating at times, is all.

 

“For both, Onya. I’m ready to arrange that meeting now, though.” She watched Anya’s expression carefully, but the older female said nothing.

 

“Alright, Clarke. The  _ Heda  _ has agreed to meeting you in the In Between. There you will discuss terms. You will have your chance to speak, but no matter what,  _ do not interrupt her.  _ It is a grave offence and will not be taken lightly, Clarke Griffin.” Clarke wanted to protest as an almost automatic response, but the solemn look in Anya’s eyes helped her hold her tongue. 

 

“I understand, Onya. When does she wish to have this meeting.” Clarke queried. 

“Her schedule is relatively… Flexible, Clarke,” Anya’s eyes glinted dangerously and there was a smirk on her face as the world  _ flexible  _ rolled off of her tongue. 

 

Clarke was struck by the brief thought that the sharp featured demon could convince a scorpion to sting itself with nothing more than honeyed words and a lilted voice. 

 

She expressed none of this however, and completely ignoring the innuendo, simply replied. “Alright. A week from today then. I need time to gather enough strength to bring us both to the In Between without draining my reserves. I should also take the chance to leave an offering for the guardians and make sure Octavia can run the store whilst I’m in the In Between. Time is, after all, very different there.” 

 

Anya nodded as Clarke thought. The In Between was not only fascinating but had been a place of refuge growing up. her mother had been nothing short of mortified when she discovered Clarke’s affinity for death magic, and her Father, a powerful wielder of life magic, had been supportive but weary. He had loved her, but had at times struggled to understand the way her magic had wrapped itself around her like a dark cloud. It had taken Jake Griffin many years to diminish the fear that that magic would turn against Clarke.

 

She remembered the In Between fondly. Often escaping her Mother’s disappointed eyes Clarke had dashed between worlds like it was a game of hopscotch, and had never been afraid of the aimless souls or fantastical Guardians that roamed the space. The In Between housed the lost souls, the ones who had died with unfinished business or suffered violent ends, amongst other things. Clarke had the ability to move on.

 

Her Mother was a prominent healer in the community, and had always banished Clarke when she had patients despite her eagerness to learn. The ability to wrap Death around her like a cloak also came with the added bonus of preventing death, or sensing when it was near. Her Mother had feared Clarke’s magic would kill her already weak patients, and had refused to let her near the sick or dying. Perhaps one of Clarke’s most traumatic memories was when she was nine and learnt the value of a life, and that death could be as merciful as it was vengeful. 

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

 

_ A young Clarke grew tired of her small room and approached the worn down figure of her Mother. She had been of course, banished from the scene of the birth, yet her mother appeared so defeated Clarke did not think she would mind.  _

 

_ “How goes Ms. Woodsen’s pregnancy, Mother?” She asked, timid.  _

 

_ Abigail Griffin looked at her daughter for a moment, considering. “Not well. The babe will be born soon, but I fear both Mother and child will die.”  _

 

_ The words were harsh, but that was her Mother. Clarke gazed towards the healing room, and just as her Mother said, she could see Death lingering by the door, a presence both overwhelming and comforting.  _

 

_ She had never come so close to - it? No, them. Death was neither female or male, Clarke thought. But then, Death wasn’t human either, so perhaps ‘It’ was appropriate. Death was simply, well, Death.  _

 

_ As her mother reached for a pain reducing herb Clarke could see she had resigned herself to the young woman’s fate. She remembered how her mother used to bad mouth the woman for getting pregnant so young, and letting the man run off on her when she had no way of supporting herself or the babe. Of course, Ms Woodsen’s mother had allowed her runaway daughter back home within a heartbeat. Her Mother’s attitude frustrated her, and she slipped into the room silently, determined to help.  _

 

_ Determinedly not looking at the imposing figure waiting to gently capture a soul, Clarke approached the bedridden woman. Her Mother sat by her side, her face lined with worry.  _

 

_ “Death rests on your shoulder, girl,” The mother muttered warily.  _

 

_ “And it hovers over your daughter,” The child replied calmly, if not kindly. _

 

_ The old woman drew in a breath to argue, but a weak, pale hand fluttered and stopped her.  _

 

_ “Ma. What’s done is done. I won’t survive this. I can feel it. Death.” The old woman cried, and Clarke watched, detached. “Ma, it’s ok. I can feel it. I’m not scared. I just want the babe to survive, Ma.” _

 

_ That caught Clarke’s attention. She looked towards the woman’s belly and could sense the struggling life within. She marvelled at it - always terrified of her parent’s disapproval, Clarke had long since stopped using her sight. She had forgotten what it had felt like. _

 

_ “She lives still,” Clarke commented.  _

 

_ “She,” The woman breathed through her tears, her pain wracked eyes looking towards her own mother. “A little girl. Name her Evie, after nanna. You take care of her Ma.” Both the women were crying.  _

 

_ Clarke wondered if her own death would be so tragic, and felt a jolt in her soul. It was sharp, and her heart beat harder and her eyes burned as she thought of a motherless child and a life lost. This was empathy, she realised. Clarke had always been detached as a child, and she found this emotion painful.  _

 

_ Feeling a presence by her shoulder, Clarke spun, expecting her Mother. Instead, she found herself looking into the endless depths which comprised Death. Those depths contained infinite lives and stories and loves - a million universes, unexplored. She took a sharp breath but didn’t move away. Clarke was not afraid. She had always lived with the knowledge that her life rested in Death’s pocket.  _

 

_ It turned towards the struggling mother, and Clarke sensed it trying to tell her something. More of a feeling than it was words, Clarke got the distinct sense the being was telling her to  _ look. 

 

_ So she did, concentrating as hard as she could. And that’s when she realised - somehow, the woman was feeding her life force into the babe. However, it was to slow, and the child was dying as quickly as the woman was giving. When that well was spent, both would perish. Clarke sensed it like a river flowing from Mother to babe, and she knew she could widen the channel and let it flow faster and stronger.  _

 

_ She nodded, and Death moved away, satisfied.  _

 

_ “Ms. Woodsen.” Clarke stated, stepping forward.  _

 

_ Exhausted eyes settled on the golden haired child. “You are trying to give your life to the child. At this rate you will both die. I can help you, but you will still perish. However the child will survive. You must make this choice.” _

 

_ The words came to her naturally, and she wondered if Death was guiding her in a way her parent’s never could. _

 

_ Clarke could see the woman’s death in her mind’s eye; she would take one last breath, and then her soul would be swept up in the warmest of embraces as she was taken to a new plane of existence. If she was ready, Death would carry her all the way there; if she was not, she would be trapped in the In Between until she could find her own way, letting go of her mortal existence.  _

 

_ “Clarke Griffin. Save my child. Please.” Once again, that stabbing pain, now at her heart.  _

 

_ Clarke wanted to cry. Something about this seemed unfair, yet at the same time she knew that concepts like fairness and justice did not apply to death. All things mortal died. All things that lived, would one day die.  _

 

_ So Clarke stepped forward and took the womans hand. Her crying Mother asked, “Will it hurt her?” _

 

_ It seemed even she had accepted her daughter’s grim fate.  _

 

_ “No,” Clarke said, assured. “No more than the pain she is already in. She must still birth the child.” _

 

_ The hand she held was larger than hers, pale and clammy. Clarke focused on the stream of energy leaving the woman and flowing into the child and pushed at it. She closed her eyes and was lost in it as she pushed at its edges and chipped away at the barrier holding it to the woman - some spiritual sense of self preservation.  _

_ It gave way and Clarke opened her eyes to the woman screaming. “I can- I can feel it. The baby is coming.”  _

 

_ Clarkes previously absent Mother burst into the room, a fresh pain relieving potion in her hands, just as Death took It’s place by the dying Mother’s head. _

 

_ Abigail grew white with fury, yanking Clarke away from the woman with such vigor that she fell to the floor. “What have you done, you abomination?”  _

 

_ Clarke flinched at the words even as Ms Woodson said, “Please, Abby. She has saved my child. I can feel it - but we must hurry. I don’t have long.” _

 

_ That snapped Abby out of it for the moment. Clarke watched as her Mother coached the woman through the pregnancy. She told the woman to push, to be strong, but her strength was waning. Birth, Clarke decided, was brutal and unforgiving. This woman had been in labour for quite some time. Clarke had merely arrived in a peaceful moment. However it was only minutes later, a screaming red baby girl was placed on the mother’s sweat soaked chest. _

 

_ “Evie,” She breathed as the spark inside her went out. _

 

_ Death placed It’s hand on her cheek, and she could sense the relief as the tired soul flew from the cold body into It’s warm embrace. Clarke could understand how people feared dying; it was afterall, the end of life. But to fear Death was something Clarke didn’t understand. Perhaps their fear was placed upon Death instead of what might await them in their next journey. _

 

_ Clarke was surprised to find she was crying in earnest now. Despite her knowledge of death, the loss of a life was still sorely felt, and the reality of the situation was finally hitting the nine year old.  _

 

_ She had just killed someone, even if it was only a mercy killing.  _

 

_ When the body was collected and the older women had left with a care parcel and the newborn, Clarke still sat on the floor where she had sprawled, unable to move. She had  _ felt  _ it when that woman had died, like a star winking out of existence. The moment played over and over in her mind, till her Mother approached her.  _

 

_ “You.” Was her only warning before her Mother yanked her off the floor and dragged her out the room.  _

 

_ Clarke cried out as she was thrown into her bedroom. “Mother,” She wailed.  _

 

_ She did not want to be punished. She had done only what she was required to, no matter how much it hurt. Her mother had said that both would die, and she had saved one.  _

 

_ It was the right thing to do. (Right?) _

 

_ Shr reached for her Mother, hoping to be held, and was greeted with a harsh slap to the face. _

_ “You’re a killer Clarke. You were destined to be one since your birth. Repent,” Her mother hissed, slamming the door shut.  _

 

_ It was in this moment that Clarke realised her mother was afraid of her. _

 

_ Clarke sat, reeling from the both the pain and the shock. She was frozen, and her mind was falling apart and her skin was crawling away and she couldn’tbreathandshecouldn’thtinkandwhydidmotherhitmeand-  _

 

_ She stopped. She breathed.  _

 

_ It was okay.  _

 

_ Repent.  _

 

_ She could repent. She could do that. She could make her Mother proud again.  _

 

_ And so Clarke Griffin pushed all thoughts of her particular magic to a place deep inside herself, and forsaked death for a tamer kind of existence, one where Mother’s couldn’t give children their life force and little girl’s didn’t see Death. _

 

**O** O*O*O*O*O*O*O **O**

“Clarke!” Anya’s voice was concerned, and Clarke knew that wasn’t the first time her name had been called. 

 

Clarke was breathless. It had been so long since she had so vividly remember that moment of her childhood. There were perhaps two other memories that were equally as painful - her mother’s departure and her father’s death. 

 

She shook her head, as if the physical action could remove the emotions churning inside of her. Anya watched, worry buried so deep within those dark eyes it was almost undetectable.

 

Clarke needed a breather.

 

“I’m okay, Onya. The meeting will be a week from now. I must prepare.” 

 

She started to walk away, even as Anya called out to her. 

 

“Clar-” 

“Perhaps you should visit with Raven, Onya. I will be to busy to entertain you for some time.” Clarke deflected, knowing full well the demon could entertain herself. 

 

Clarke was tired. She missed her dad, and longed for a loving mother. 

 

She shook those feelings away. No use crying over spilt milk, she thought, getting a handle on her wayward emotions. 

 

She had work to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I updated. Life is hectic. 
> 
> I'm finishing school and slowly rewriting My Mind, The Tragedy. I saw a psychologist and have gotten an official diagnoses. Hopefully once school is done I can update more. 
> 
> In other notes, I've realised I want to really utilise the oppurtunity to make this fic diverse. I mean, it's a fantasy fanfic. nothing's stopping me. I'm already looking at the predjudice in descendants'demons vs humans, but I don't want my fic to ignore modern problems such as homophobia/biphobia/transphobia/etc, racism, sexism, etc. I will be working on this but suggestions are welcome
> 
> So, suggest some characters <3 I will be keeping canon characters as they are, but if you want a group to be represented let me know and I will see what I can do :)

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should be working on MMTT but I couldn't resist this idea.


End file.
